


Joey Potter's Christmas Carol -- Wishes Do Come True

by OlicitySmoaky



Category: Dawson's Creek
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-06
Updated: 2017-06-06
Packaged: 2018-11-09 18:19:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11110203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OlicitySmoaky/pseuds/OlicitySmoaky
Summary: Old fic from 2003. Pacey and Joey fandom...written under my old name Evie.Joey is Scrooge in this scenario. Will she find love again with Pacey?





	Joey Potter's Christmas Carol -- Wishes Do Come True

**Author's Note:**

> I'm an old fandom girl. This was written during the show when it was still on the air (or just after). I'm not posting all of my old fics. Just a few of them. Hope you enjoy this one! I remember working very hard on it at the time...aka I re-read a Christmas Carol and took lots of notes before writing. ;)

_  
Joey Potter's Christmas Carol:  
Wishes Do Come True  
_

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

  
  
_Wrapped Magazine_ was hot. There was no doubt about that. Her reporters were everywhere, all the time, snapping photos and penning articles on the hottest parties from Hollywood to the Hamptons. Even tonight, Christmas Eve, at its midtown headquarters, Ms. Josephine Potter, editor-in-chief and owner of said magazine, had many of her employees working late with promises of a full-day's work schedule the following day beginning at nine the next morning.  
  
The clock had just turned six and half p.m. when she burst from her office, glasses on the tip of her nose, peering out at the bullpen. "Devon! I don't have all day."  
  
A wiry little man of about thirty scurried away from the magazine's newest copy editor and her desk. "I'll see what I can do, Martha," he said to her over his shoulder before answering his boss's summons. "Sorry about that, Miss Potter."  
  
Joey folded her arms neatly across her chest. "Devon, if you want to remain an employee of this magazine, I suggest you stop wasting your time apologizing and remember you have work to do."  
  
"Actually," Devon began after an attempt to summon up a brave breath which ended up sounding like a fearful shudder. "I was wondering if we could, eh, leave a little early."  
  
"I can't believe you're asking that! After I've already had to suffer through half of the regular staff taking this pointless holiday off. Both today and tomorrow. And now you want to leave me in the lurch?"  
  
"But I'm coming in tomorrow," Devon pressed. "So is Martha. Couldn't we just take a few hours tonight? Please?"  
  
Joey's face twisted sourly. "Don't whine, Devon. It's giving me a headache."  
  
"But, boss, it's just that, well, my puppy is sick and I-"  
  
"Your puppy?" Joey laughed with a snort. "Is that supposed to be some sort of perverted metaphor for something I don't even want to know about? Pathetic. Now, get on the phone to L.A. and check on Hector and his party. Then I want to see second copy edited asap." She turned around with a snap and disappeared into her office.  
  
Devon ground his teeth together, wanting nothing more than to toss nasty expletives toward the woman who was known around the office as _The Empress of Ice_. But before his face turned a complete shade of puce, a cheerful voice floated into his ears, causing his frown to melt.  
  
"Jingle bells, Jingle bells. Jingle all the way! Hi, Devon!"  
  
"How goes it, Alex?" Devon smiled at the merry young NYU student, who was carrying a silver box with a bright red bow, as he sat down at his desk.  
  
"Not too bad," said the boy, who, like his father, had grown well past six feet and, at nineteen, was quite possibly still climbing. "But I'd be better if I knew my Aunt Joey was letting you have tomorrow off."  
  
Devon shrugged. "You know how she is."  
  
"Yeah, I do," he sighed, before turning his smile back on and continued singing happily as he made his way through the bullpen toward Joey's office. "Oh, what fun it is to ride in a one horse open sleigh! Hey! Merry Christmas, Aunt Joey!"  
  
"Alexander, what are you doing here? I thought you'd be home," Joey muttered the last word as if it created a very bitter taste in her mouth and continued typing away at the small yet top of the line computer that sat on her desk.  
  
"I already told you, Aunt Jo-"  
  
Joey held up her hand with a flick of her wrist. "I don't have time to listen to this, Alex. Just go home." She once again began typing.  
  
"Aunt Jo, don't you have a Christmas wish? Something you've always wanted?"  
  
Joey frowned as an unwanted thought flashed through her mind. Christmas wishes were for weak-minded people who couldn't get by on their strength of will. She may have had one once, but it was gone. Gone and gladly forgotten. "Alex," she growled. "I'm busy."  
  
"But, I wanted to give you your Christmas gift in case you decided not to come tomorrow."  
  
"Why are you bringing me a gift? I told you I refuse to waste my time on a stupid holiday that only serves to make people depressed, feel guilty, or spend more money than they have. And wherever it is you have me deciding to come or not come tomorrow I'm sure will be a complete waste of time, so count me out."  
  
Alex ignored his aunt's patent scowl and trademark grumbling and grousing and put the pretty package on the edge of her desk. "Don't you remember? Pacey's restaurant is sponsoring a Christmas brunch for the kids at the 109th Street Youth Center. He's gotten a good amount of toys donated for the kids and the money raised at the brunch will go to the center after the holidays. I thought he sent you an invitation."  
  
"Well, I don't remember it. Now, please, leave me alone and go bother that airhead girlfriend of yours," Joey snapped.  
  
"Rebecca likes you, Aunt Jo," Alex sighed, thinking of his favorite curly-haired dance major. "Why are you so mean to her?"  
  
"I'm not mean. I'm honest. What exactly does she have to offer you, hmm? I don't see why your mother doesn't keep a better eye on who you date. Not that she's known for being the best judge of character."  
  
"I don't want to argue on Christmas Eve."  
  
"Then go home, Alex. You're already wasting my time."  
  
Alex stepped closer to her desk and folded his arms. "I just have one more question. Why do you make everyone work on Christmas Day?"  
  
"It's as good a day as any to work," Joey said as she started back at her computer.  
  
"People have families," her nephew said with a small plea. He hated the idea of people like Devon having to work when there was absolutely no need for it.  
  
"Goodbye, Alexander."  
  
The young man sighed, shaking his head dejectedly. "I don't even know why I bother. Merry Christmas, Aunt Jo. Please think about coming to Pacey's," he said softly, then quietly left.  
  
  
  
Six hours later, Joey finally released the last of her employees, a blurry-eyed Devon, who'd been in the office since 7 a.m., the new copy editor, Martha and one of the layout people named Frank.  
  
"Why don't you go home, Miss Potter?" said Devon as he wrapped his fraying burgundy scarf around his neck and pulled on his gloves. He noticed Martha standing by the elevator tapping her foot. She already held a terrible disdain for the boss she'd only met a few weeks ago.  
  
"I still have work to do." Joey ground her teeth together. "I'll see you in the morning."  
  
"Right," sighed Devon. As much as he disliked his shrewd boss, he also felt sorry for her. There was a good heart beneath the thirty-something woman who pretended to be all about numbers, deadlines, and out witting her competition. She'd been close to her family once. Her nephew Alex had told him as much. She'd also been in love. He often wondered if this lost love of hers was the cause of her bitterness. He knew how painful broken love could be. Sometimes, Joey reminded him of himself, except for she was alone by choice. Devon's loneliness grew from circumstance. His family was dead, Joey's was right under her nose; she just refused to let them into her life.  
  
"Let's go, Devon," said Martha. "Remember you have to check on Dickens."  
  
Devon jumped to attention at the mention of his little dog. It was his only friend. Well, he had been until Martha had joined the ranks of _Wrapped Magazine_. She was proving to be a worthy ally, friend, and possibly something more at least he hoped.  
  
  
  
Joey got up from her desk and went to the small refrigerator in the corner of her office to remove the Chinese food she'd ordered a few hours ago for herself but had not touched. Afterwards, she moved, her bones much too weary for a woman of thirty-four, to the sofa across from her desk. She planted herself on the cool black leather, ignoring the gentle scene of snow and lights that lay beyond the picture window just behind her vacated desk chair.  
  
Suddenly, a very cool whip of air jutted through her open office door and stung her face with a chill. This was very strange because air never passed through the insulated office with its permanently shut windows unless the air conditioning had been switched on. And who would do such a thing on such a cold winter's night?  
  
Joey was no fool. She did live in one of the most densely populated cities in the world. Anyone could have slipped through the doors past Barney, the all night security-guard. She was probably being paranoid, but just the same, she quickly shut and locked her office door, deciding she would call Barney immediately if she heard another peep. Fairly sure she would not, Joey returned to her seat and began consuming her cold meal in lonely silence.  
  
She thought about switching on the fireplace at the edge of the room but decided against it, thinking it would create too festive a mood for a time of year she would rather forget. Her attention fell to the outspread of magazines lining the small glass table before her sofa. The picture on the latest issue didn't seem right. The woman on the cover, a very recognizable socialite, didn't look at all like herself. In fact, she looked a little like a girl she hadn't thought about in years, a girl from her past, someone she remembered disliking ferociously. She blinked several times and shook her head. Now not only did the one face look like the dead girl, but all of them did. Every female face on every issue of her magazine looked like _Abby Morgan_.  
  
Before Joey had a chance to jump, her office lights began flickering off and on and then, after several pulse-throbbing seconds, her office door slammed open. Next, a heavier, much louder sound, scratched slowly through the bullpen. Fried rice and low mein covered her Persian rug and Joey was bent over her desk, holding the phone against her ear. "Barney! Barney!" The low heavy scratching grew closer and louder. Joey continued screaming into the mouthpiece. "Barney!"  
  
"I don't think that's going to work, sweetie."  
  
Joey whipped around to see, her eyes as wide as the skin around them would allow them to bulge, the same face that had appeared on the magazines just moments before. Abby Morgan. But it wasn't just her face this time, it was all of her, just as Joey remembered her looking nearly twenty years ago, well, except for the massive chains hanging from her shoulders with several puzzling items attached antiquated cell phones, empty cans of beer, what looked like old credit-card charge machines, and two huge books with metal covers.  
  
"I know. I look awful. But you don't look so hot yourself, Potter. Close your mouth you look like you're waiting for something you've wasted your frigid life never getting."  
  
Joey, seeming to forget the shock and fright of the moment, dropped her jaw even further and narrowed her eyes. "If that is an affront to my sexual life, I've had plenty of men."  
  
"Oh really?" the image laughed nastily. "And just how long ago was that?"  
  
"That is none of your business. I- What the hell am I saying? This is a dream, right? I just fell asleep and didn't realize it. I knew that place used too much MSG."  
  
A smirk crossed Abby's lips, and she gave her ghostly shoulders a shrug. "If that's what you need to tell yourself."  
  
"Go away."  
  
Abby laughed, sounding so much like her former self that Joey shuddered. "Forget it, missy," she said. "I have a job to do. Now stop your yapping and let me do it."  
  
"What the hell are you talking about?"  
  
"You."  
  
"Me?"  
  
"Did I stutter?"  
  
"Still the same as I remember."  
  
"Oh, and how is that? A total bitch, a rich bitch, in fact. A girl who tried so hard to hate everyone and everything just because she didn't want to face herself. Hmm, sounds familiar. Coulda been stupid little fifteen-year-old me who got herself killed being a moron. But you know who else it sounds like?"  
  
"I'm not playing guessing games with you, Abby, even if you are a dream."  
  
"If you need to guess you're not as smart as I thought you were."  
  
"If you're talking about me, I-"  
  
She shook her finger and progressively rose it into the air. "Ding-a-ling-ding! Give the Empress of Ice a prize."  
  
" _Empress of Ice_? That's original." Joey boldly sneered. She was afraid, but at the same time disbelieving. Though she had to keep reminding herself that this was simply a very vivid dream.  
  
"It's what they call you around the bullpen, I'm afraid," Abby sighed. "Either that or _Miss Frigid USA_ , oh wait, that's just me."  
  
"You mean to tell me, you've been watching me. You? You hardly knew me."  
  
Abby shrugged with nonchalance. "I don't give the orders. I just wear the chains."  
  
Joey let her eyes wander back over the thick heavy-looking metal links that adorned Abby's body, then pointed when they reached the floor. "What are those books?"  
  
"Oh, just lists of things I did in my life that weren't so pretty."  
  
"You were so young. You can't have possibly done that much."  
  
"These are chains of guilt. I never had a chance to wipe the slate clean, so," she shrugged again. "I'm doomed to wander the earth all wound up. Envy me, don't ya?"  
  
Joey frowned. "Not at all."  
  
"Well, you're doomed to the same fate, I'm afraid," Abby sighed, half-sounding as if she did not care at all.  
  
"This is a joke! I must have been watching a bad rendition of Scrooge on television last night."  
  
"Hmm? When was the last time you watched anything other than CNN?"  
  
Joey frowned in thought. She rarely watched anything for pleasure. Damn, her for being right. Of course, being damned was something Abby Morgan seemed to have quite a handle on. "Well," started Joey. "I-"  
  
"Thought so."  
  
"Would you stop cutting me off?" Joey huffed.  
  
"No," said Abby. "I have places to go. Do you think you're my only stop tonight? It's Christmas Eve. Now, listen up. Three ghosts, spirits, phantoms, spooks, whatever you wanna call us are gonna visit you over the next couple of nights. I know, you think this is a stupid old Christmas ghost story written by a disgruntled middle-aged English dude, but it's not. It's been happening since there was a Christmas to celebrate and a man or woman, who needed reforming. Unfortunately, we can't get to everyone in time. And, well, some of us just hit the fast track sooner rather than later. You know you're damn lucky you had that slimy old Dawson character and that lovey-dovey cornball, who turned out to be amazingly hot in his grown-up years, to keep you from turning totally grinch in your early years."  
  
"This is ridiculous!"  
  
"Right," Abby laughed. "So, like I said. Be ready for three visits. Don't be alarmed if some of them look familiar. That tends to happen. They appear to you in the form that suits your imagination or needs best. I sound like a damn shrink. If I weren't already dead, I'd think I was gonna be sick. Oh, I almost forgot. They should be here starting tomorrow, uh, some time after midnight. I forget the exact times, you know."  
  
"Let me guess? At the stroke of one the first two nights and on the last night at the last stroke of twelve. I know. I was an English major in college, which is why I'm dreaming of this with an insane amount of detail."  
  
"If that's what you want to believe."  
  
"Stop saying that!"  
  
"If I'm just a dream, then it's you who's controlling me, right?" Abby offered.  
  
"But why on earth would I dream about you?"  
  
"Somethin' to think about when you're waiting for those spirits, hmm? Seriously, Joey. If you don't wanna end up like me but a thousand times worse, pay attention to your visitors."  
  
"Sure, I'll pay attention to a bunch of hallucinations. I've already cracked up, haven't I?" Joey snorted.  
  
"You better. It's the only chance you've got, so I suggest you take it, Miss _Wrapped Magazine_." And with a snap of her fingers, she was gone, the lights were on, Joey's Chinese food had disappeared from the rug, her office door was shut and all was quiet. She, however, was standing nowhere near the place she had been when she'd first seen a sign of Abby. What if she was sleepwalking? Had she blacked out maybe? Or was she just going insane?  
  
Not wasting any time, Joey grabbed her briefcase and purse and headed for the elevator. When she got to the lobby, she found a snoozing Barney with his feet propped up on his desk.  
  
"You're completely worthless. You know that!" she spat, startling the chubby man awake.  
  
"Miss Potter. What is it? Has something happened?"  
  
Joey felt trapped. On the one hand, she wanted to berate him for being such a lousy guard and not answering her call, on the other, if she had not called at all and simply had been having a dream, come morning the entire office would be whispering about her. "I, um, I'm not sure."  
  
"Would you like me to call someone to come and get you? It is Christmas Eve and you shouldn't be alone."  
  
"I'm always alone, Barney," she said, sounding neither sad nor bitter, just extremely tired. "Don't worry, I'll find a cab."  
  
"This late?"  
  
"I've had worse odds. Good night, Barney."  
  
"Merry Christmas, Miss Potter."  
  
  
  
Joey arrived at her apartment twenty minutes later, and shedding only her scarf and boots, she collapsed on her bed face-first and fell into a dreamless sleep. That terribly relaxing sleep lasted only until a very agitating buzz sounded in her ear. "Wake up," her voice activated clock demanded. "It's nearly one."  
  
Nearly one? She was almost certain that she'd arrived home just after two. Had she slept through the day? Was it already one in the afternoon? Her heart lurched. The staff might have skipped out of the office without sight of her. Her eyes snapped open and she was shocked to find the room just as dark as it had been when she'd fallen asleep. Oh, but the curtains were closed, that explained it. Pulling herself from the bed she ventured across the room, and pulled the heavy hangings back. She clapped a hand over her mouth when she realized it was still dark. "The clock is just broken. Thats all."  
  
"No, it isn't." A hollow voice tinged with a familiar tenor caused Joey to turn around with a quickened heart.  
  
Nothing could have prepared her for the sight before her. It clawed at her with a mixture of confusion, shock and fear. There stood a man, chalky white and almost transparent, wearing what looked like a minuteman's costume, holding a bayonet. But that wasn't the most frightening of his appearance. What shook Joey to the very core of her being was that the figure looked exactly like Dawson Leery.  
  
"No! You're not dead. Dawson?"  
  
"Ah," began the spirit in the same whispy voice he had spoken in just moments before, "the young Leery lad, sorry Miss Potter, but I can't say that I am him. I am the ghost whose coming was foretold to you."  
  
Joey swallowed. "Are you sure? Because you look just like-"  
  
"I am the Ghost of Christmas Past," the image interrupted her. "Your past, Miss Josephine and no one else's."  
  
Joey eyed him disbelievingly. "Are you trying to say that we all have a ghost of Christmas Past? Not everyone celebrates Christmas. I don't celebrate Christmas." She folded her arms beneath her chest, forgetting once again, to be afraid of such an odd sight before her.  
  
"Every man and woman on earth has some sort of timely spirit that links them to the their worth," the ghost explained. "I appear to you in the form that is most representative of your past. Dawson Leery is linked to many of your memories and much of your childhood."  
  
Joey twisted her mouth. "Well, what about that costume? Dawson was always a little odd, but I don't remember him ever dressing like Paul Revere."  
  
"Ha! This costume represents you more than it does Dawson. It represents everything you feared about your old hometown and its antiquated notions. Remember? You wanted to be free. You wanted to live life on your own terms. You wanted to become somebody."  
  
"I am somebody," she insisted.  
  
She watched as the specter's eyebrow rose to the top of its long forehead. "Are you, Joey?"  
  
Joey's heart thumped madly in her chest. "What do you want with me?"  
  
"I want to show you."  
  
Joey raised a hand up as she swallowed her trepidation. "Let me guess. My past?" Perhaps it would be best to indulge in whatever it was this Dawson thing had to show her. Dream or no dream, she had to give in, didn't she?  
  
"Right."  
  
Joey shivered. Was he simply answering the question she'd posed a second ago out loud or had he read her thoughts? She was once again jaunted by the thing's presentation. Its resemblance to Dawson was still frightening.  
  
"Are you sure you aren't, Dawson? Because I haven't talked to him in years. For all I know he could be dead and-"  
  
"Don't worry, Joey," the shallow voice began to assure her. "Your old friend is alive and well and living a twisted yet blissful life in California with his wife and child."  
  
"He has a child?" Joey's eyebrows pinched close. She had never heard this before. Was this true? Unfortunately, the spirit seemed to be on some sort of time schedule and it told her as much.  
  
"It's time to leave, Joey. Here, take my hand."  
  
He held out his long grayish looking fingers. As she took it shakily, an odd feeling washed over her. It was quite warm and seemed to be made of emotions she'd nearly forgotten about belief and trust.  
  
"Where are we going?" she asked, sounding very much like a hopeful young child.  
  
"To your past," said the spirit. "Hang on."  
  
As the words were spoken, they passed through the wall and stood upon a snow-sprinkled lawn that spanned beyond an old creek. New York and Joey's apartment were no longer around them. The night had turned to day, and everything was bright and clear. A tall house with a white porch hidden behind a screen door stood before them.  
  
"This is the Leery house."  
  
"So, you remember it?"  
  
"Of course! I spent most of my childhood here, almost more than I did at my own house. What are we doing here?"  
  
"Let's go inside and take a look."  
  
Expecting to use the door, Joey was surprised when the figure that looked like the boy she'd known who lived in this very house, stepped through the wall and pulled her with it. They stood in the middle of the living room, decorated like it had been, not the last time she'd seen it, but in a way that made her heart feel like she was six-years-old.  
  
"Christmas 1989," said the spirit, confirming her guess.  
  
Joey was startled when she saw a very small girl swinging her arms and entering the room from the kitchen with a happy song at her lips. Behind her were two boys, one with light brown hair, the other with hair so blond it was almost white. A hand came to her lips, as she choked back a sob at the sight of the three of them.  
  
"Jingle bells, Jingle bells!"  
  
"Batman smells!" sang the familiar brown-haired little boy.  
  
"Shut up, Pacey!" the girl turned on the boy with narrow eyes. "You're ruining my singing."  
  
The boy folded his arms across his triumphantly poked out chest. "I'm not ruining anything, 'cause your singing is already bad!"  
  
The little girl's mouth dropped open and her eyes grew wide. "It is not!"  
  
"Is too!" the boy returned.  
  
"Take it back!" the girl cried.  
  
"Make me!"  
  
The small girl pushed the boy hard and sent him crumbling to the ground just in time to see three adult women entering the room followed by a teenage girl.  
  
"That's my sister, Bessie," the adult Joey said to the ghost beside her, followed by a frown. Her sister. They'd been close back then. They had been happy. "And that's," she swallowed a lump of tears that came from something sweet and not sour, "my mother. She was beautiful, wasn't she?"  
  
The spirit nodded, just as the woman in question began to speak.  
  
"Children, please, calm down and come have some eggnog and gingerbread reindeer." She placed the tray she was holding on a nearby table as Dawson's mother, Gale, looking younger than Joey ever remembered her looking, placed a pitcher of eggnog beside the glasses Pacey's mother had laid out for the children.  
  
Young Pacey Witter, always in the mood for a good load of sweets, had scrambled deftly to his feet, and had his fingers in the plate before Joey and Dawson could blink. The little Potter girl clucked her tongue, coming up beside him and looked ready to speak her mind when little Pacey startled her by holding out the napkin full of cookies he'd managed to gather so quickly.  
  
"Here, Joey," he said without thinking.  
  
Joey frowned. Why did he do that? She took the cookies, then waited to see if he would do the same for Dawson. Her frown deepened when he not only failed to give Dawson a serving but grabbed a glass and told his mother to make sure Joey had milk instead of eggnog because she didn't like it with gingerbread cookies.  
  
"Oooo! Mistletoe!" Dawson cried from the other side of Pacey.  
  
The youngest Potter in the room shook her head. "Huh?" She moved her head around from where Pacey was still standing beside her and looked at the small blond boy quizzically. "What kinda toe?"  
  
"You and Pacey are under it! The mistletoe! The kissing plant." Dawson snickered.  
  
"So, what?" The little girl blushed, remembering Bessie talking about wanting to kiss some stupid ugly boy named Todd under the mistletoe at the Christmas party this year.  
  
"You have to kiss now!" Dawson insisted.  
  
"Ew! No way!" Young Joey threw her cookies down on the table and beat across the room, wondering why no one was trying to save her from Pacey, who had his lips puckered and was right on her heels. Correction, he was right beside her heels and his arms were surrounding her. Then before she knew what was happening Pacey Witter's wet lips were smacking sloppily against her cheek.  
  
"Gross! Mommy! He kissed me!"  
  
Pacey just grinned and put his hands on his hips. "I am invincible!"  
  
  
Misty-eyed and filled with longing the thirty-four-year-old version of the frowning child who now had her face buried in her mother's lap, spoke for the first time in several minutes. "What is the point of all of this?"  
  
"To help you to feel again. You do feel something don't you?"  
  
Joey nodded, deciding right then and there she did not ever want to step out of the memory. Everything had been so innocent and pure then. She remembered it so well now. Why had she chosen to forget about it for all of those years?  
  
"Come on," said the ghost, "we have more to see."  
  
"No, I want to stay here."  
  
"These are just shadows, Joey. They aren't real."  
  
"Still, I want to stay."  
  
"I'm sorry, but you can't. Come on," the spirit said gently, "you might like where we are headed even better."  
  
Joey frowned. There couldn't be anything better than being here with her friends and her mother, could there? The ghostly Dawson touched her hand once more with his cool gray fingers and before Joey could blink twice, she found herself standing in her sister's B &B beside a crackling fire. Her heart swelled when her eyes fell on the figure of a seventeen-year-old Pacey Witter curled up on the sofa.  
  
"He's out for the night," a younger version of Joey's voice surrounded the room as she stepped inside from the hallway.  
  
"I told you I would have put him down for you, Jo. You have to study," Pacey yawned, snuggling into a small cushion and smiling up at her.  
  
The older Joey watched them and was hard pressed to keep the love radiating between the two of them away from her own cooled heart. "We were so young then," she said to the spirit.  
  
"Shh. Just watch, Joey," the ghost told her in his strange voice.  
  
She did watch, however, watched as her younger only partly jaded self curled into the arms of the man she back then thought would never leave her.  
  
"I think I've got it down now, Pace," the teenage Joey was saying, as she kissed the handsome boy's cheek. Pacey, in turn, nuzzled her nose, then placed a soft one on her lips.  
  
"I better get going then," he said, sitting up, obviously much to the chagrin of the girl wrapped in his arms.  
  
"What? No."  
  
"You, Miss Potter, need your rest." He stood up and walked toward the coat rack.  
  
"I'm fine, Pacey, really. Don't go."  
  
He turned back to her and smiled. "Do you really want me to stay?"  
  
"I'd sleep better if you did," her voice was small and so full of love that the adult version of Joey Potter now longed for something a little different than innocence and family. She wanted this back, the earth shattering kisses, the need to be with someone and make them happy all day and all night.  
  
"All right," Pacey said, slipping his arms around her younger self and dropping a kiss on her forehead reverently. "I love you."  
  
"Mmm, look, mistletoe." She pointed slightly to the right above their heads.  
  
Pacey chuckled as she moved them directly under the sprig of leaves. "Like I need an excuse to kiss you, Potter."  
  
"Hmm, well, how 'bout we make this one count?" she whispered against his lips.  
  
"Are you saying my normal kisses don't count, Jo? Because if you are, I take offense at-"  
  
"Shut up, Pacey, and kiss me."  
  
He chuckled again. "Well, if you're going to be demanding about it."  
  
Before the older Joey could watch the kiss intensify into what she remembered as being one of the longest and most breathtaking kisses she'd received from her boyfriend, the ghost tapped her shoulder and grabbed her hand. If she hadn't known that this Dawson-like figure was not Dawson at all, she would thought his interruption was stemmed from jealousy. However, it was not. He reminded her that they had only a little time to complete their journey.  
  
"Where are we going now?"  
  
This time she failed to even blink before she was standing in the middle of her old apartment in Greenwich Village. Instantly, she knew what Christmas this was. Her two roommates had gone home for the holidays, while Joey chose to stay behind and work on an extra project for the magazine where she'd been employed for three years following college. There was a man named Peter Wright who worked at her office a tight-assed, new to the office, prick who sexually harassed her when no one was looking, made more money than she did, but was a first class moron. He seemed determined to make her life hell. He saw her as a threat. Joey refused let him get the better of her. She would not press charges against him and cry like a simpering little baby in front of the board using her words against one of their old boys. She would not wait for the cookies to be handed to her from the Christmas platter like Pacey had done for her.  
  
She was strong and capable. She was not a little girl and there were no more Pacey Witters in the world around watching out for her. Hell, the real Pacey Witter wasn't even interested in this Joey Potter. Or so she let herself believe. She also chose to believe that she didn't need anyone in the world, not even her sister Bessie.  
  
At the moment, this past shadow revealed her former self holding white portable telephone to her ear as she leaned against the door jam between the kitchen. She was talking to the sister in question.  
  
"I can't come this year, Bessie. I told you. I have a lot of work." It wasn't true. She didn't have to take on that project, but she wanted to get ahead. She wanted to stand out, accelerate her chance at promotion. She was consumed with achievement, so much so that she'd missed spending the holidays with her sister for two years. That year, however, was different. Bessie had given birth to her niece Angela three months before.  
  
"You still haven't seen the baby," the voice on the receiving end suddenly became very clear to the Joey listening and watching the shadow of her past unfold before her eyes. "You promised you'd be here this time, Jo."  
  
"I don't have time, Bessie," the young editor said firmly. "I'm sorry."  
  
"No you're not," her sister's voice returned.  
  
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Joey snapped into the phone, as she pushed away from the door and began pacing about the room. She looked frustrated and desperate for control. How had she gone from that girl snuggling on the sofa with her boyfriend to this neurotically lonely twenty-five-year-old bitch? It was fear, fear of failure, of being nothing, of losing herself. But that was exactly what she had done that night. She was so tired. She had wanted to go home, really. But she couldn't. "I told you that I have work to do. I wouldn't expect you to understand what it is I do, but-"  
  
"Did you just call me stupid, Jo?" her sister's said, obviously hurt. "Because that's what it sounded like."  
  
"Maybe I did!"  
  
"Joey!"  
  
"Look," the young woman said, allowing her voice to take on a tone of fervent irritation. "I have to go, Bess."  
  
"What's happened to you, Joey?"  
  
"I became an adult," Joey snapped, though she had not at all like an adult at the time. She had to focus on her work. She didn't want to talk any more. If she worked, she didn't have to think. And thinking hurt too much.  
  
"Yeah, an adult who could care less about her family and friends. When was the last time you talked to Dawson or Pacey?"  
  
"You just don't get it do you, Bess? I am not that wide-eyed little girl you used to know any more. I have a life, one that doesn't include anything remotely to do with Capeside." It was true, but it wasn't necessarily what she wanted.  
  
Bessie apparently had taken those words to heart because after three excruciatingly long seconds she said in a very soft sad and broken voice, "If that's how you feel, Jo, don't bother calling back."  
  
Joey opened her mouth. She was going to recant. Her tongue wouldn't allow it, her tongue and her stupid pride.  
  
"I didn't mean any of that," the older Joey insisted to the spirit. "I was just having a bad time that year, and she didn't seem to get that."  
  
"You allowed your attitude to override your entire personality and drive away all of your friends."  
  
"That is not true," Joey lied.  
  
"Really?" He raised a ghostly eyebrow.  
  
"Yes, really."  
  
"Well." He trailed off as he touched her shoulder. The room turned dark and the furniture suddenly became quite sparse. Swallowing a dry lump in her throat, she hoped that the spirit had not changed the year to the very one she'd tried so hard to forget for the last six.  
  
Her roommates had long since moved out and _Wrapped_ had been in production for a little over six months. The hip magazine with its fun edge and photogenic young editor was the buzz around town. Strangely enough, Joey still had yet to make any real connections. She endured a few parties here and there, making appearances for show, but it was always the same. Pop in and pop out, leave her two assistants and three photographers to do the work for her. That was the good thing about being in charge; she got to delegate responsibility. This Christmas had been particularly tiresome for her. She'd gone to two parties in one night, watching people falling down drunk, humping their co-workers and mere acquaintances while their spouses looked on or did the same thing. People were sick and Joey was tired of them all. So that Christmas Eve, she turned down yet an invitation to a fabulous party at the Carlisle Hotel and opted to curl up in front of the fire and forget all about the holidays. That is until a reminder from the past decided to show up on her doorstep.  
  
"Please," she turned to the spirit, "we can just skip this one. I know what it is and-"  
  
"Shh, just watch."  
  
Before she had a chance to protest, she heard the intercom buzzing.  
  
"Who's there?" She watched herself ask suspiciously, pressing the speaker button.  
  
"Merry Christmas, Jo." A familiar voice filled the room.  
  
"Pacey? Is that you?"  
  
"You're a hard woman to track down, let me tell ya. It's freezing out here. Aren't ya gonna let me in?"  
  
"Why would you try and track me down?" she asked instead of answering his question.  
  
"Well, for one, I just opened a restaurant here and I wanted to invite you to come up and see it," he shouted into the box. "This is ridiculous, Joey. Come on and let me in."  
  
"Pacey, I. I'm a little busy right now, so."  
  
"Oh, I'm sorry if you have guests. I was just hoping to."  
  
His voice trailed off as the spirit guided the present day Joey behind the image of herself through her front door into the hallway and to the front of the brownstone. When she opened the door, a snow covered but very adorable twenty-eight-year-old Pacey Witter stood shivering and wearing a killer smile. Though she knew it was only an image of what was, the real Joey Potter, felt her knees falter and she had to brace herself against a wall that in reality was not there. Her past image's reaction looked no different in those first few moments.  
  
"Look," Pacey cleared his throat. "I brought you something."  
  
"Thanks," she said softly, but it was only seconds later that her expression settled into a cold unforgiving countenance. "Now, if you'll excuse me." She began to close the door, put Pacey's quick arm would not allow it.  
  
"Wait, when will I see you again?"  
  
"I don't think that's such a good idea, Pacey."  
  
"Why the hell not, Potter?"  
  
"Don't call me that."  
  
"What is with you? You don't talk to any of us for years. Fine, I chalk that up to lives separating and working in different parts of the country. But I'm here now, Joey. I thought our friendship meant something to you."  
  
"It might have once, but I'm not a child any more."  
  
"Are you ashamed of being friends with someone like me, Jo?"  
  
"You know that's not it."  
  
"Then what is it?" He implored, stepping closer to her. His eyes roamed above their heads and noticed the bit of mistletoe that hung above the door. He licked his lips and watched as her set jaw relaxed and her throat muscles slightly work over. "I've missed you."  
  
Joey looked at him with pain and longing shining from her deep hazel eyes. "Why?"  
  
"Because," he whispered, dropping his head so that his lips hovered merely inches from hers. "Joey." He removed his glove in a fluid motion and cupped her warm cheek with his cold trembling hand, causing the loveless woman to sigh like she had when she had been so young and so foolish.  
  
Just as he was leaning in, Joey realized that was exactly what she was being utterly and completely foolish. Ripping herself from his grasp and stepping back so suddenly she nearly tripped over the door's threshold, she began furiously shaking her head. "I can't."  
  
"I'm sorry."  
  
"Please, just go, Pacey."  
  
And that was the last time she'd spoken to him face to face. He sent her invitations to special events at his restaurant and promotions of his restaurant _Witter on 3rd_. At first, she had to mental fight herself not to give in and accept one but as time went on, ignoring him became much easier. She allowed herself to hide behind the magazine as it grew. She was angry with herself for being such a coward, for letting herself push the only man she'd ever love away as if he'd been an unwanted stranger, a derelict in her life. But he wasn't. He was Pacey. She loved him.  
  
"Please, bring him back," she looked to where the ghost had been standing beside her, but he was gone. "Please!" she cried, looking heavenward. "Bring him back! Give her another chance! That's my wish! Let me have him back," she finished brokenly.  
  
Not more than a second later, Joey found herself, not standing on the black and white checked floors of her Greenwich Village apartment hall, but laying twisted and mangled between her bedroom sheets, a clock buzzing beside her then finally speaking, "It's one o'clock. Time to wake up."  
  
Had the day changed again? Was it time for the next spirit? Or had that all been a dream?  
  
"Okay, little lady, we've got a lot to do and very little time to do it in." She heard a loud voice booming into her room but saw no one as she sat up and glanced about her bedroom. "Step lively," the voice continued, sounding as if it was in the next room.  
  
Joey got out of bed and felt a small chill. She grabbed a thick knit sweater from the trunk at the base of her bed and pulled it on.  
  
A trumpet sounded, causing her to jump. "Miss Potter, I'm waiting."  
  
It sounded just like Pacey, but it didn't at all. Pacey would never talk that way.  
  
"Pacey!" she shrieked, seeing a perfect vision of her lost lover, shimmering in golden light, and wearing a policeman's uniform. In fact, it was just like the uniform his brother Doug wore. But Pacey wasn't a cop. That much she did know. Of course, what she was seeing was not supposed to make any sense at all. Still, she had to be sure. Slowly, she stepped toward the glowing figure and carefully asked, "Is that you?"  
  
"I am certainly not anyone named Pacey," the ghost said, sharply, standing as rigid as a soldier. "You can call be Philbert, Pascal, or your friendly neighborhood Ghost of Christmas Present. It's up to you."  
  
"Philbert or Pascal? You know Pascal is where Pacey's name comes from. Are you sure you aren't him?" she eyed him warily, not wanting to allow the thought of Pacey not being alive enter her mind but finding it very hard not to entertain the horrific idea.  
  
"Haven't you already gone through all of this with the other ghost?" the image snapped sharply, knocking the unwanted notion immediately from her head. This spirit was certainly not her Pacey.  
  
"Yes, but I don't see how Pacey represents my present when I don't even talk to him."  
  
The ghost's handsome face softened as he placed a finger to his temple in thought. "Hmm. Well, do you think about him?" He looked directly into her eyes for the first time. Their brilliant blue shocked her so fiercely; she had to look away.  
  
"I try not to," Joey replied.  
  
"But you do!" He announced, slapping his fist into the palm of his other hand.  
  
"Sometimes," she admitted meekly. "Still, I don't see-"  
  
"That's your entire problem," the ghost said firmly. "You refuse to see what's right in front of your nose. Pacey is entirely your present because he represents everything you're afraid of. He embodies everything you want and need in your life but are afraid to see."  
  
"Are you trying to tell me that I am supposed to be with Pacey?"  
  
"I am telling you that you are supposed to be happy with yourself, compassionate to others, love life as best you can with everything you have inside of yourself."  
  
"How do I do that?"  
  
The ghost looped his arm through hers. "Well," he began resolutely with a snap of his fingers, "let's begin here."  
  
Without warning, Joey found herself, arms still clasped with the spirit, in the middle of a tiny apartment decorated for the season amongst some very old and unattractive furniture. "What is this place?"  
  
"You recognize him don't you?" the spirit asked, releasing Joey's arm and pointing into the kitchenette where Joey's employee Devon Pilchit stood holding a small shivering puppy between the same old frayed burgundy scarf he wore to work on many a cold day.  
  
"It's okay, Dickens. I'm sorry the heater broke, but this is the best we can do until tomorrow. That is, if I have time to talk to the super before work." The puppy gave a small cry. "I will, I will. I promise. But you have to promise to start eating, little guy. You didn't touch any of what I left for you today." He put the puppy into a basket that had an old striped pillow inside of it and moved to pick up the cracked blue bowl that held his dog's food. Pouring the contents into the sink, he sighed heavily. "I should get you better food and take you to the vet. But I can't chance leaving wet food out for you all day and making you even more sick. Or worse yet something else getting in and eating it for itself." He shuddered. "Well, buddy. I'm off bed. I have to get up early."  
  
The dog barked weakly.  
  
"I know I get to see Martha tomorrow. That is something to smile about! Good night, buddy. Merry Christmas!"  
  
The adorable little dog slowly closed his eyes as if he understood his master, looking much too sick and worn out for such a young dog.  
  
"That poor little dog," said Joey. "I guess I don't pay Devon enough, do I?"  
  
"It's a possibility," the Pacey-looking figure said sharply.  
  
"And I should at least give him some of tomorrow off."  
  
"Some?" pressed the spirit.  
  
"Okay, all of tomorrow off."  
  
"That sounds more like it, Miss Potter."  
  
"Great! Then am I off the hook yet?"  
  
"Off what hook?"  
  
"You know what I mean."  
  
"No, I don't think you are off the hook, Miss Potter. No, I don't think so at all," he said, offer his arm for her to take.  
  
Joey accepted it and braced herself for what was to come next. She was in the B &B again, but this time she barely recognized it. Had she really been away that long?  
  
There was a little girl standing at the base of the stairs, holding small stuffed reindeer in her arms. "Night, Mom," she said, unable to see that Joey was standing right beside her, studying her, marveling at just how much the girl looked like her at that age. Her hair was longer and curlier, her skin a deeper tone of honey, but her face, it was as if she was looking in a mirror. A thick knot coiled and squeezed around her heart, then she heard a voice that had once been as comforting to her as her own mother's had been speak from the other side of the room.  
  
"Night, sweetheart," said Bessie, looking still so very young for her age. She would be just forty-four now, though she didn't look a day over thirty-five. "I'll wake you in the morning."  
  
"If I don't wake you first!" said the girl. "Merry Christmas, Mommy! Merry Christmas, Daddy!" she chimed toward the kitchen, where Bodie stuck out his head and gave her a thumbs up.  
  
"Merry Christmas, munchkin. Now get upstairs before Santa catches you."  
  
The girl rolled her eyes in patent Potter fashion and bound up the stairs. It was obvious someone did not believe in Santa any more, but was too afraid to completely admit it. Joey smiled fondly as she remembered that feeling. But it was soon wiped away when she noticed Bessie's own grin fall as she slumped onto a sofa Joey had never seen before.  
  
Bodie sank down beside his wife and touch her knee.  
  
"What's the matter, Bess?" he asked.  
  
Bessie shrugged.  
  
"Thinkin' about Jo?"  
  
"Angela is so much like her, Bod, it hurts. I try not to think about it any more, but you know how sappy I get around the holidays." She tried to laugh it off, but Bodie, obviously, wasn't buying it as he took her by the shoulders and forced her to look at him.  
  
"It's okay to miss her, Bessie. I miss her too."  
  
"I don't want to miss her. She doesn't deserve to be missed after the way she's treated us."  
  
"She's still your sister."  
  
Bessie gently moved her shoulders, letting Bodie know she was ready to get up. He released his hold on her and watched sadly as she began toward the kitchen. "She hasn't been my sister for a long time, Bod."  
  
"I hate it when you say that, Bess."  
  
"It's true. Now, come on. Let's play Santa. It's probably our last chance."  
  
Bodie kissed his wife, then gave her a meaningful hug. "I love you, Mrs. Wells."  
  
"Right back at ya, Santa."  
  
Before Joey had a chance to protest, her arm that had never let go of the spirit beside her, was tugged gently and suddenly she was in the middle of a beautiful restaurant with wood paneled walls and low glimmering lights lining the ceiling. At the back of the room was a very tall Christmas tree beautifully decorated. Joey knew at once where she was though she had never stepped foot in the building.  
  
He had done a magnificent job with the place. One striking ornament of dcor was a beautifully restored grandfather clock that seemed fastened to the center pillar in the main dining area.  
  
Before Joey could admire the rest of the establishment, Pacey appeared from what Joey assumed with either a kitchen or a back room, followed by a boy who looked only slightly older than her nephew.  
  
"Night, Mr. Witter!" chirped the young man as he headed toward door. "Good luck tomorrow."  
  
"Say hi to the family to me," he said, as the curly-haired man smiled genuinely. "Don't let them beat me about you staying late. It was at your insistence. Remember? I could've handled it by myself."  
  
"Anything for a good cause," he said.  
  
"Yeah," Pacey said, rubbing the back of his neck tiredly. He looked over worked and tired, but when he began to speak Joey saw a caring determination flicker in his eyes. "This'll be the only Christmas some of the kids get to have this year. Some of the families just dont have much money, but others. There is something else missing there, something I know a little bit more about ya know?" Joey knew. He was talking about his family, how much love lost there had been between them for so many years. Then again maybe he was talking about something else entirely. No, it couldn't be that. He wouldn't still think of her that way. It had been too long.  
  
"Yeah," said the boy. "Well, don't have too much fun without me."  
  
The boy disappeared, and Joey watched as Pacey's shoulders took a noticeable slump.  
  
"Why is he sad?" Joey asked, frowning. "Pacey." Joey reached out to him. "I want him to hear me. Make him hear me," she demanded of the spirit.  
  
He said nothing, standing there with his arms folded militaristically. Her brow creased further and she began worrying her lower lip with the tips of her teeth. "Pacey!" she called, knowing he couldn't hear her, but feeling she needed to give it another try. She watched as he slowly walked to the bar in the far right corner and disappeared behind it. He poured himself a glass of scotch, then moved back from behind the counter and sat at the nearest table. He took several small sips before pulling something out of his pocket. It looked like a card.  
  
Curious, Joey went over to see just what it was Pacey was holding. It was a card, a Christmas card, and he'd thrown it onto the table in front of him and pulled another object out, this time from his pants pocket his wallet. This he opened and slid out a small photograph from behind several credit cards. Joey sucked in a sharp breath when he realized it was a picture of her.  
  
After a few moments of simply staring, blinking and brushing his finger back and forth over the image of her face, he picked up the card and read its contents. Joey leaned over his shoulder. She couldn't smell anything during these images. Otherwise, she would have been amazingly affected by the way he smelled. She always loved his smell, even if he'd been sweating from a run or a day's work on his old boat. It wasn't that it smelled particularly fragrant. It just made her insides churn and twist because it was Pacey.  
  
Joey's eyes drifted down to the end of the note and saw that it was signed simply, Andie. Narrowing her eyes suspiciously, she took it upon herself to read the rest, surprised that Andie McPhee was still in contact with Pacey.  
_  
Hey Pacey,  
  
I just wanted to thank you for dinner last week. I can't believe how much I've missed you after all of this time. I'm not sure if New York is the city for me, but I will be here for a while and I hope we get the chance to get reacquainted. I know it's been forever, but I want you to know that I still love you in so many ways. If there is even the slightest chance that you could feel the same, please just give me a call. Maybe day after Christmas when I get back from Boston. I'd really like to see you and talk this out. I think there could be something real here, Pacey.  
  
Please, just call me.  
  
Love,  
Andie  
_  
It felt as if a fist had rammed painfully into Joey's stomach, and a deep panic washed over her.  
  
"He can't," she cried, shaking her head. "He can't because I love him. I love you, Pacey. I love you!"  
  
The antique clock in the center of the restaurant struck twelve. Suddenly, the scene before her dropped away and Joey was standing on top of a cold lonely hilltop. She looked around for the Pacey-like spirit and instead saw a hooded figure floating toward her. Her heartbeat tripled and she took a gainful step back. "Are you the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come?"  
  
The figure nodded. "Why is it you look exactly like the spirit foretold in the Dicken's story? I thought he had it wrong. I though you were supposed to represent my future."  
  
The figure pointed down the hill to a glass wall of a large building. It was then that Joey realized she was in Central Park and that the spirit was pointing toward one of the museums that sat at the top of its grounds.  
  
"Why are we here? Have I donated something to the museum? Surely my art would be there? A party maybe? What is it?"  
  
The figure began floating down the hill and with no control over her sensibilities, Joey found herself following along. Passing several trees and over large mounds of snow, Joey and the cloaked phantom appeared inside of a glass-covered court in the Metropolitan Museum of Art. There were several chairs lined in a narrow row down the center and to the back. In the front facing away from the snowy scene of the park was a blown up picture of her on the cover of _Wrapped_ , hanging from very long wires hooked to the ceiling. It was obviously some sort of tribute to her. Photographers were everywhere, some snapping pictures of entering guests, others standing beneath the podium, waiting for a speaker to arrive on the scene.  
  
Joey recognized many of the people who began seating themselves on the white chairs. Many members of her staff were there. She recognized the new girl named Martha right away. She was seating people and wearing a very triumphant smile. Joey wondered why she seemed so cheery. She moved closer to her just in time to see Devon approach her from behind.  
  
"Well, are you almost ready?" he said.  
  
"Yeah, I just can't stop smiling. I know it's wrong of me but I just feel relieved now."  
  
"I know what you mean. The shareholders couldn't possibly ruin our lives any more than she was doing."  
  
Joey frowned. "What are they talking about? What happened with the shareholders? Was I voted out? But why the tribute? Why is my picture up there?" she pleaded to the ghost, who still said nothing.  
  
"Her family isnt here yet," Martha was saying. "Her sister said that she might come."  
  
"She's not coming," Devon informed her.  
  
"What about her friends?"  
  
"A few."  
  
"A few of my friends? Who are they talking about?"  
  
"There they are now," Devon told Martha, who shrugged and sat down. "I'm going to check the sound. I'll see you later."  
  
To Joey's horror, she spotted Pacey enter the room linked arm and arm with a charmingly put together Andie McPhee. She was leaning into him, holding him tight. Tears sprung to Joey's eyes when she noticed the ring Andie wore on her wedding finger.  
  
Pacey would end up with Andie. She let it happen. It was all her fault.  
  
"I can't believe it," she heard the blonde woman she hadn't seen since her senior year of high school say to Pacey.  
  
"Me neither," he said sadly.  
  
"Me neither," another male voice said from behind the two of them.  
  
"Dawson," Pacey said, giving his childhood friend a hug. Pulling back, he gave a heavy sigh and shook his head. "I just don't understand it."  
  
"I know," said Dawson. "She never spoke to us. Hell, I didn't even know she'd died until I got the call from her assistant."  
  
"Died? They're not talking about me are they?" Joey shouted desperately toward the spirit, who still stood hovering morosely in the corner of the room. Joey looked to her old friends when she'd received no answer from the oddly silent being, anxious for a hint.  
  
"Yeah, I missed the funeral too. Alex said his mother didn't want to make a fuss so I didn't find out until later."  
  
"She's buried in Capeside?" asked Dawson.  
  
Joey's hand slapped over her mouth. "It is me."  
  
"Apparently, yeah," Pacey sighed, answering Dawson's question.  
  
"It was sad the way she ended up all alone," said Andie.  
  
Before Joey could react to hearing such a statement, Pacey began to speak in a very clipped tone.  
  
"Yeah, well, she pushed us all away from her. It was obviously what she wanted." He was angry, and he blamed her for dying.  
  
"It's not what I wanted! It's not what I want!" Joey cried to their deaf ears.  
  
"If she hadn't shut the world out," Pacey blinked and pinched his nose in an attempt to hold back his tears, "she'd still be alive."  
  
"I know," said Dawson, clapping him on the back supportively. "Come on, let's find our seats."  
  
"How did I die?" Joey begged as each of them made their way to the back row. She was about to follow them when she heard low chuckle rumbling beside her. It was Hector, one of her reporters, standing beside the layout manager, Frank.  
  
"She was such a dumb bitch. She let herself get killed," said Frank.  
  
"I know. Lucky it wasn't one of us those hours she made us keep," laughed Hector.  
  
"I can't imagine my wife being daft enough to wander down a dark alley alone at three o'clock in the morning looking for a cab."  
  
"I heard from the night guard that she started staying later and later and always insisting she find a cab alone."  
  
"I thought she was supposed to be smart."  
  
Hector's laughter began vibrating throughout the room, as Devon approached the podium and began speaking about the future of _Wrapped Magazine_. He barely mentioned Joey's name, except to say she was the founder and she had recently died. Horrified, Joey moved quickly through the crowd back toward the spirit. In haste, she passed Martha and heard her humming 'Ding Dong the Witch is Dead.' Her heart squeezed with pain and regret.  
  
"Please! I'll change! Please don't let this happen! Please, don't let Pacey marry Andie! Don't let me die! I won't shut people out! Please!"  
  
She pulled at the hooded figure only to be confronted with a horrible image of her own face, depleted by death.  
  
A shriek tore from her mouth and she ran from the building until she returned to the top of the snowy hill. There, she fell to her knees and cried out to the heavens for forgiveness. When no answer arrived, she began pounding into the snow with her fists, sobbing with fear and regret squeezing her heart. It was all consuming and very real. She wanted to live another life, a good life. She wanted Pacey and a family. She wanted to live, not simply exist. She wanted another chance to love. She wanted another chance to be Joey Potter.  
  
Her fists continued to pound and pound desperately, but the surface below them was no longer cold and wet but warm and soft. It was a rug, her rug in her office. And she was back in her own time with the sun shining bright through her big picture window. She ran to it and looked out at the snow falling majestically over the city. "What day is it?" she wondered anxiously, turning quickly toward her computer and flicking it on. In the corner flashed the date, December 25th, 8:18 a.m. "Christmas Day," she whispered, a small smile turning on her lips. "I haven't missed it."  
  
It was too late to call her employees to give them the day off, but she had a better idea.  
  
At nine a.m., the bullpen began to fill with the slumped shoulders of more than half of Joey Potter's resentful team of writers, artists, assistants, and editors. They were surprised to hear the soft sound of Bing Crosby's melodic voice harmonizing a heart-warming rendition of a favorite holiday tune.  
  


_  
I'll be home for Christmas  
You can plan on me  
Please have snow  
And mistletoe  
And presents by the tree...._

  
  
"Is this some kind of sick joke?" asked a very grumpy Hector Diaz, who had just arrived on the red eye from Los Angeles and could not believe he had to come in to work. He plopped down at his desk, surprised to see a plate of cookies, a cup of steaming hot cocoa with whipped cream, and a red card addressed to him. Before he could even reach for the card he heard a whoop sounding from the direction of Devon Pilchit's desk. He saw the eager young assistant to the editor-in-chief rush across the room, grab the new girl Martha, spin her around and out of nowhere plant a passionate kiss on her lips.  
  
Devon broke away breathlessly and turned to the rest of the office.  
  
Ecstatically, he began waving a torn red envelope in the air. "A raise! A raise and an appointment for Dickens at the best vet hospital in the city Monday morning!" He stopped and shrugged, feigning indifference though a very large smile continued to tug at his lips. "Oh yeah, and the rest of the day off." His co-workers stared at him slack-jawed, thinking surely he had gone mad. "Go on, you morons, open yours too! I see you've all got one."  
  
"I got a raise too!" cried a woman in the back, "and a day at Elizabeth Arden!"  
  
"So did I!" another one of the female workers cheered.  
  
Hector tore into his envelope and was shocked by what he read.  
_  
I was offered these a long time ago, but I never had cause to use them. Funny, how I never thought to give them away. I hope you can enjoy them. I hear you are a fan. Oh and another thing. Go home and get some rest. You deserve it.  
  
-J. Potter  
  
PS I believe a raise is in order as well. We'll discuss the figures on Monday._  
  
"A raise and box seats to see the Knicks!" Hector yelled. "Has she gone crazy?"  
  
"Maybe she was replaced by a pod person," snickered Martha, re-reading her card for the tenth time.  
  
"Maybe not," said Devon. "I guess we'll have to wait and see. In the meantime, would you care to accompany me on a walk through our fair city?"  
  
"If you promise to have dinner with me tonight. It will be just my mother and me. I was afraid she was going to be alone for Christmas."  
  
"Well, she won't be."  
  
Martha smiled and linked her arm through Devon's. "Oh, I forgot, I got you something," she said.  
  
"What?"  
  
She returned to her desk and pulled a long red box from beneath it.  
  
"How did you sneak that by me?"  
  
Martha winked. "I have my ways."  
  
The rest of the office had finished their cocoa and wrapped up their cookies. It was time to head back to their families. Martha huddled close to Devon, who was blushing and grinning as she led him toward the elevators. "Thank you for the scarf, Martha."  
  
"Thank you for the company, Devon. And don't forget. We have to pick up Dickens on the way to my mother's."  
  
"Oh, you don't have to worry about him."  
  
"Sure, I do. He's part of the family now."  
  
Devon's smile turned into a curious frown. "I wonder where Miss Potter is."  
  
  
  
  
Joey applied a bit more lipstick, then looked over the cab driver's shoulder as he came to a stop in front of a restaurant adorned with red and green balloons. She took a deep breath to steady her nerves before handing the driver his fare and a rather large tip.  
  
"Wow. Thank you."  
  
"Happy holidays," she told him, climbing from the car. Her shaky legs almost made her rethink her decision, but then she thought about Pacey. She had wasted way too much time hiding from him. It could be too late for them to share what she truly hoped for, but she had to let him know what he meant to her. Afterwards, she had plans to drive to Capeside and see her sister. There were things that needed to be said. Even if Bessie threw her out on her ear, she would say them. For now, it was time to face another part of her past. However, before she had a chance to pull the door to the restaurant open, someone called out to her.  
  
"Aunt Joey!" cried Alex, carrying an arm full of presents and walking alongside his girlfriend.  
  
"Alex!" Joey grinned up at her nephew.  
  
His eyes were wide with shock at both her expression and her presence. "You're here!"  
  
"Merry Christmas," she said, giving him a kiss on the cheek and taking a few of the packages. "You look like you need a hand or two."  
  
The baffled boy stepped back with a wrinkled brow. "Are you okay, Aunt Jo?"  
  
"Why wouldn't I be?" she said happily.  
  
"I don't know." Alex scratched his forehead for a moment, contemplating the obvious change in his aunt's demeanor. _Is she wearing reindeer earrings?_ She shocked him even more by turning to his girlfriend, whom she'd expressed distaste for on many occasions, and smiling brightly.  
  
"Rebecca, isn't it?"  
  
"Yes, hello, Miss Potter," the girl said, cautiously, shifting the large shopping bag she carried from one hand to the next.  
  
"Call me Joey," she said genuinely.  
  
The girl, having less experience with Joey's personality frost than her boyfriend, accepted her surprisingly warm demeanor quickly with a smile of her own. "Joey," she said, "Merry Christmas."  
  
"Let's go inside, shall we?" Joey said, pulling the door open with her free hand. Rebecca went in before her. Alex followed, but turned around before his aunt could enter.  
  
"Aunt Jo, I think I should warn you. I tried to tell you yesterday."  
  
Joey's brow wrinkled a bit though her pleasant demeanor remained in tact. "What is it, Alex?" Someone wearing a youth center sweatshirt came by just then and took the gifts she was holding in her arms, thanked her and headed to where the tree had been set up. She noticed Rebecca was already up there.  
  
"Well, my mother is here," Alex said quickly, looking toward the corner of the room, where his mother and father sat with his little sister.  
  
"Oh?" Joey's startled eyes fell upon the unexpected image of the sister she had not seen in nearly a decade. "I'm so glad she's here," she said finally.  
  
"You are?" Alex asked, confused.  
  
"Yes, now, why don't you take these gifts up to the front where I think I see everyone else gathering? I'll catch up with you later."  
  
Alex nodded, still a little baffled by his aunt's sudden Christmas spirit, but happy it was there just the same.  
  
"Oh, Alex, I forgot." Joey reached into her purse and pulled out a card. "Give this to," she stopped to clear her throat, "Pacey, but don't tell him it was from me."  
  
"What is it?"  
  
"For the kids." She placed it in his coat pocket. "I trust you."  
  
One might have thought that Alexander Wells had one the lottery gauging by the smile that now covered his face. "Thank you, Aunt Jo."  
  
He scurried away quickly, leaving Joey to shift her attention back to her sister's table. Joey's presence went unnoticed as she made her way toward the Wells family. Then, when Joey was no more than a stride or two before them, Bessie turned her head from a whispered moment with her husband and gasped.  
  
Tears crept into Joey's eyes and her heart squeezed. "Bessie, I-"  
  
Before another word was uttered, the girl she had seen bid her mother goodnight beneath the B &B Christmas tree a few hours ago, stepped in front of her with an outstretched hand. "Hello. I'm Angie Wells." Her eyes were narrowed a bit, as if she disapproved of Joey yet wanted to leave her room for a quick redemption.  
  
"Angela, sit down right now," her mother snapped, rising to her feet.  
  
"Hi, Angie," Joey said warmly, knelling down to the child's height. "I'm your Aunt Joey."  
  
"I know. I look at a lot of old pictures," she explained with a shrug.  
  
It was uncanny. The child really did look very much like her.  
  
"Oh, I see," she said, still smiling, watching the girl slowly become more at ease with her, something that rarely happened when it came to her and children. She wanted to change that about herself. She wanted to change a lot of things. Reaching into her pocket she pulled out a simple gold chain with a heart-shaped locket dangling from its end. "I'm sorry I haven't been around much, but here. I wanted to give you something."  
  
"Me?" said Angela.  
  
"Yes. It's a necklace," she said, fastening it around the girl's neck. "My mother gave it to me a long time ago. I think she might want you to have it. Her first granddaughter."  
  
Angela admired her new treasure with a great smile then threw her arms around Joey.  
  
"Thank you!"  
  
Joey squeezed back with affection, feeling her heart swell.  
  
"Mommy, look!" Angela exclaimed, now bouncing on her toes in front of Bessie.  
  
"It's beautiful, sweetie," said the girl's mother. "Now, go and talk to your brother for a minute. I want to talk to your Aunt Jo for a while."  
  
"But mom." Angela whined.  
  
"Go on," Bessie prodded. "It looks like he and Rebecca need help up there."  
  
"Okay," said Angela, stuffing the necklace into the collar of her dress for safekeeping.  
  
When Angela was gone, Bessie looked to her husband for support. Bodie simply pressed his lips into a line and looked away. This meant that he wanted them to work this out together. Bessie's eyes settled on Joey again. She'd missed her sister so much, but she didn't know what to say.  
  
Joey remedied that by speaking first. "I'm so sorry, Bessie," she said, sincerity shining in her eyes. "Please forgive me for being so stubborn." Without waiting for Bessie's response, Joey put her arms around her sister and hugged her tightly. "Merry Christmas."  
  
Filled with shock and disbelief but happier than she had been in a long time, Bessie hugged her sister back. When she finally let go, her eyes became watery. "Joey, after all this time. I don't understand."  
  
"Let's just say, I came to a realization," said Joey.  
  
"Oh? And what was that?"  
  
"That for all my success, I am nothing without my family. I'm nothing without you, Bess."  
  
Bessie squeezed her one more time. "Oh, Jo. I've missed you so much."  
  
"Me too, Bess."  
  
Finally, Bodie felt it was safe to venture forth. He stood up and came around the table. "Hey, Jo."  
  
"Merry Christmas, Bodie." Joey embraced her brother-in-law, realizing just how much she'd missed her family, how much she'd been missing everyone. Feeling empowered by their acceptance, Joey's eyes immediately began scanning the room for the one person she came here to see. "Excuse me. There's someone I need to talk to."  
  
She found him talking to the same man who'd collected the gifts from her near the tree. She wondered why she hadn't seen him standing there earlier, but figured it didn't matter now. All that mattered was talking to him before she chickened out.  
  
"Pacey?"  
  
He turned around with wide eyes, paling at the sight before him. "You came," he muttered, as if speaking it any louder would make her disappear.  
  
"Yeah." Joey smiled bashfully. "Sorry, I'm a little late."  
  
"It's okay. Yeah, uh" he trailed off and raked a shaky hand through the thick of his hair. His eyes darted left and right, like an animal cornered and afraid. "Well, um, I have to get a few things ready so-"  
  
"Pacey, wait," Joey said, desperately reaching out and grabbing his arm. "I need to-"  
  
"Mistletoe!" Angela suddenly cried, waving a sprig of leaves at the end of a long pole above Pacey and Joey's heads. "You have to kiss!" she laughed.  
  
"Angie!" Bessie's authoritative voice sounded from across the room. "Get your little butt over here, right now!"  
  
"Not until they kiss," she called back. "You have to."  
  
Joey smiled up at Pacey as red as a beet. "Well, I do owe you one. Don't I?"  
  
"Sure," he said softly.  
  
Their lips met in the tiniest of pecks, leaving Joey's heart to shatter with disappointment as Pacey ducked quickly away barely muttering, "I'll talk to you later. The kids are about to sing."  
  
Angela pulled on Joey's hand and led her toward the buffet line. "Come on, you can sit between me and Alex after we get our plates."  
  
It took the kids twenty more minutes to set up and the guests thirty to settle down enough for them to be heard.  
  
"Okay, well, I just wanna thank everyone for coming. Give ya a little ho-ho-ho and say a few more words, here," Pacey began, clapping his hands together as he often did when he spoke publicly. "A lot of people helped us out here. I don't wanna leave any one out, so I'm just gonna say, kids, stay outta trouble." He raised his eyebrows at the crowd of kids gathered in front of him. "Stick to the lyrics, Kenny." A few people chuckled, obviously knowing the reason behind Pacey's light-hearted warning. "And now, without further ado, I present the 109th Street Carolers!"  
  
As the children's voices filled the room, Joey's heart, though aching with regret over Pacey, grew full with the spirit of the season.  
  


  
_Dashing through the snow  
In a one horse open sleigh  
O'er the fields we go  
Laughing all the way  
Bells on bob tails ring  
Making spirits bright  
What fun it is to laugh and sing  
A sleighing song tonight_

_Oh, jingle bells, jingle bells  
Jingle all the way  
Oh, what fun it is to ride  
In a one horse open sleigh  
Jingle bells, jingle bells  
Jingle all the way  
Oh, what fun it is to ride  
In a one horse open sleigh_

_A day or two ago  
I thought I'd take a ride  
And soon Miss Fanny Bright  
Was seated by my side  
The horse was lean and lank  
Misfortune seemed his lot  
We got into a drifted bank  
And then we got upsot_

_Oh, jingle bells, jingle bells  
Jingle all the way  
Oh, what fun it is to ride  
In a one horse open sleigh  
Jingle bells, jingle bells  
Jingle all the way  
Oh, what fun it is to ride  
In a one horse open sleigh yeah_

_Jingle bells, jingle bells  
Jingle all the way  
Oh, what fun it is to ride  
In a one horse open sleigh  
Jingle bells, jingle bells  
Jingle all the way  
Oh, what fun it is to ride  
In a one horse open sleigh!_

  
  
  
  
She looked around her and saw love everywhere from parent to child, from husband to wife, between sweethearts, between friends and siblings. Love was life. She realized that now, which was why she was not going to give up on Pacey.  
  
After singing and eating, gifts and donations were handed out. One donation from an anonymous benefactor was quite a surprise to everyone, bringing the day's earnings high enough to pay the remainder of the cost of refurbishing the center's main gym as well as the small but needed on-site library and study hall.  
  
Children and adults alike participated in a few holiday games, laughing and having as much fun as their full stomachs would allow. Pacey, being the host, remained busy the entire time. Joey noticed his smiles and laughter were directed anywhere but toward her. She stayed confident, however. She had no choice but to.  
  
Late morning quickly turned to late afternoon and merry-makers began to depart. Bessie, Bodie, Alex, Rebecca, and Angela were all headed back to Capeside, where Joey had been invited but declined, promising to see them on New Year's Eve. She knew Bessie was hard pressed to believe such a promise, but Joey was willing to give her sister time to get used to her change of heart. In fact, Joey would have left with them right then had she not had something very important to attend to.  
  
After the last of the volunteers had left, Joey stood wiping down an already spotless table until Pacey finally emerged from the kitchen, looking quite exhausted. "You're still here," he said, stating the obvious.  
  
Joey folded the rag she was using and placed it into the bin beside the table. She took a deep breath and looked at Pacey squarely with a clear her throat. Steadily, she walked toward him, her eyes never wavering from his. "I have something I need to tell you," she said with conviction.  
  
"Oh?" Pacey gave her a cautious look, as she stood merely inches away from him, chewing on her lower lip.  
  
"Yes." Her throat cleared a second time, and she noticed that Pacey's expression had shifted from wary to rapt. His eyes almost seemed to silently plead with her own. So, she continued with her head high. "I just wanted to tell you that-"  
  
A phone rang Its halting shrill came directly from Pacey's pocket. "One second," he said, sounding quite irritated with the interruption, and clicked it on. "Hello?" He sighed, then seemed to try in effort to keep his voice light. "Hi, Andie. No. It went great," he said cheerfully, watching Joey's expression fall. He turned away from her, as if only able to deal with one thing at a time. "I understand. It would have been more fun with you here," he laughed. "Well, Merry Christmas to you too. I'll talk to you soon. Okay. Bye."  
  
"I'm sorry, Pacey," Joey said, as soon he turned back to her, stepping into his personal space.  
  
Pacey frowned but didn't step back. "Sorry about what?" he said in a low voice.  
  
"About everything," she admitted. Any other time, hearing Andie on the phone with Pacey would have sent her running, but today it held her firm. He was too close to slipping from her grasp. If she didn't say something now, she would lose her chance.  
  
"What are you talking about here, Jo?" Pacey plead with a grunt. It was now that he chose to step back. It was obvious he was still hurt, still angry with her. "Because I can think of a lot of different things you have to be sorry about."  
  
Joey nodded. "I know. I just had to let you know that I'm sorry, and that" Her heart took a moment to climb into her throat and lodge itself there with a promise not to budge. She blinked back the tears it seemed to bring along with it and spoke over through her swelling emotion. "That I love you. I always have."  
  
Pacey's eyes slipped shut when he felt her hand gently touch his arm. "Jo" he whispered, looking more pained than he had that night when they were kids out by that old cabin of Dawson's Aunt Gwen, that night she gave in to him. Today, she would do that again, only this time, she wanted it to be forever.  
  
She went on. "Not only do I love you, Pace, but I need you. I let fear take over my life in so many ways. The worst thing is I let it drive my friends and family out of my life. I let it drive you out of my life."  
  
Braving a look into her eyes, he asked, "What are you asking for here, Jo?"  
  
"You," she said simply and with an earnestness that could not be mistaken. "I want you." She let her hand slide over the soft hair on his arm in search of his fingers. When she found them, she grasped them tight, heartened when he squeezed back in response.  
  
"For how long?" he sounded as choked up as she felt, and a kiss seemed to beckon the moment.  
  
Joey felt her heart skip a beat, as his eyes searched hers and his tongue swept over his bottom lip. She took his other hand into her own and pulled him closer. When he did not hesitate, she was emboldened. It was now or never. They inched closer and closer together.  
  
Before their lips touched, and Pacey muttered, "Finally," as if a life long torture had been relieved. Finally. Their lips seared together.  
  
It was amazing, just as she remembered and so much more. He tasted like love lost and found, cinnamon and gingerbread, hope and the future, strawberry and candy, all of the things she'd forgotten and wanted to remember. She sucked in a breath as his hands clasped her shoulders tighter, pulling her closer against him. Seconds turned his kisses from short and fearful to fully passionate, as if they'd been kissing that way everyday for the entire lives, as if he needed her to breathe. When he finally pulled his mouth from hers, Joey thought he was finished but he was not. Instantly, his mouth dropped her right cheek, then her left, her forehead, then the base of her neck, her earlobes each, and finally he reclaimed her lips. How could she have doubted this? How could she have doubted him?  
  
Finally, the two of the parted, panting, eyes dark with both love and longing.  
  
"How long?" he asked again, this time voice ragged with desperation and something else, something that was tinged with fear and doubt.  
  
Joey placed a hand on his cheek, then leaned forward to kiss the other side. "For as long as you'll have me," she whispered warmly into his ear.  
  
Pacey's arms immediately encircled her waist, and he began nibbling on her neck, following a soft sigh. "How does forever sound?" he muttered into her skin.  
  
"Mmm, sounds perfect."  
  
"Love you so much," he mumbled, still loving the flesh of her neck.  
  
Joey pulled back a bit and took his face between her hands. "Even after all this time?"  
  
He removed one of her hands and kissed it reverently. "Potter, you've had me wrecked from the beginning."  
  
A tiny smile crept on to her lips. "So, what do you say about the end?"  
  
"I told you already."  
  
"Can I hear it again?" she asked softly, enraptured by the intense stare he gave her.  
  
Pacey sighed, feeling that inexplicable current between them flow at full force as he looked into her eyes. "Forever and beyond, Potter."  
  
"Same to you, Pace." Their lips joined again, and finally so did their hearts.  
  
  
Joey Potter kept every promise she made, from employees to the man she soon would call husband. She and Pacey not only visited the B &B for New Year's Eve, but made it habit to visit Bessie and Bodie at least once a month on invitation. She contacted many of her old friends, including Dawson Leery, made amends, and expressed great a desire to keep in contact for many years to come.  
  
Devon, Martha, and a full-grown, healthy, yet rambunctious pooch named Dickens moved to Connecticut exactly one year after the Potter-Witter couple had their first child.  
  
So, Joey became a good boss, a good friend, a loving wife, and with the arrival Mary Janelle Witter, a wonderful mother.  
  
Many could not believe the change in her was genuine, but as time moved on and her true nature remained steadfast, the world began to see Joey Potter as a woman of character, of heart, full of life and laughter, someone who was easy to love. Well, at least, to her husband. _The wish buried so deeply in her heart came true at last._  
  
  
*~*~*

**Author's Note:**

> I know a lot of people aren't reading these any more, but if even ONE person enjoyed this, I'm happy. Would love to hear from you, but if not, that's okay, too. Thanks for reading.


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